


Heartstrings

by howsthismylife



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Derek uses words, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not good at tagging, M/M, depressed!Stiles, mentions of bullying, mentions of cutting, ooc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 07:34:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howsthismylife/pseuds/howsthismylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles transferred to Beacon Hills high school hoping to reinvent himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a test.
> 
> I'm still not finished with the fic.
> 
> let me know what you guys think or maybe if i could change stuffs.
> 
> i'm not really confident with my writing.
> 
> not beta read.
> 
> Stiles doesn't have ADHD but depression and Derek actually uses words. Hale family never died from a fire so Derek's character had been altered a bit.

I sighed as I was, yet again, shoved into another locker first thing in the morning. It’s not like this was my first time to be pushed into something as cold and hollow as a locker. In fact, I’ve been used to jocks shoving me into lockers. So I just shrugged, fixed my jacket and do the only thing I’m better at; ignoring. I just ignored the slight pain my back felt as another jock “accidentally” pushed me. I got used to it, really.

                I knelt down to grab my things that was now on the floor, scattered. There weren’t a lot of students yet because it’s still early. I sighed again as I picked up my pen when a hand brushed mine. I looked up and I saw another student crouching down, helping me gather my things up.

                I can’t see his face from this angle so I just continued shoving things into my backpack.

                “Here you go.” He said, handing me the last of my notebook.

                “Don’t mind them,” he then looked at me with those piercing gray eyes and smiled at me with those chiseled cheeks. I almost closed my eyes when I saw those pearl white teeth.

                I just smiled back and stood up before I said “Thank you,” and before he could even say something I walked to my locker.

                Being bullied was nothing new to me. The reason my dad and I moved from another county was because I was being bullied _badly_ at my previous school. And I had a bitter past that needed to be buried.  So here I am, the new sophomore pale skinny kid in Beacon Hills. My father luckily, after being reassigned, was the new Sherriff in town. I was hoping that would mean that I would be less bullied and have more friends. I shrugged off the thought as soon as I remembered that I was shoved into a locker this morning.

                Best first day ever.

                I was standing in front of my locker looking at my schedule trying to figure out which room’s which when an unfamiliar teen stood beside me and started unlocking his own locker.

                “So…” by the tone of his voice he seems nervous as I am “You’re the new kid in school huh?”

                I looked at him awkwardly and I noticed his dark curly hair and his pleading brown eyes “Yeah, that’s me. The new kid,” I said, flailing a bit. It was kind of embarrassing.

                He smiled at me and said “Cool, my name’s Scott,” he offered me a handshake and I shook it “what’s your first class by the way?”

                Looking at my schedule I said “Chemistry,”

                I noticed how his eyes slightly widen and he smiled and said “We’re classmates then!”

                “Cool. I’m Stiles by the way,”

                He looked at me as he finished grabbing books by his locker and said “Nice to meet you, Stiles,”

                “Nice to meet you, too”

                Scott had offered to show me the way to our room and I accepted. He promised help me find my rooms and to tour me to the school if I promised I’d be his friend. I just looked at my shoes as we’re walking and didn’t say anything.

                Experiencing bullying first hand, it taught me one thing and one thing only. Never trust anyone. So I’m still keeping my guard up and based on what I had experienced in my previous school I have no plan on letting that down any moment now. But there’s something inside me saying to trust him, he seems sincere enough. And he’s the first one who’s approached me kindly in this town.

                I kept walking and followed Scott trusting him that he would indeed lead me to the right room. Which apparently he did, I took the seat near the window and Scott took the seat next to me. He’s still grinning widely at me and I kind of grinned back. Maybe I could trust this guy, just maybe.

                The class was kind of boring. Mr. Harris kept on glancing at me when Scott whispers something comical at me. I tried my hardest to concentrate most of the time but I still find it difficult to. I guess I still haven’t recovered from my illness. I sighed again when the bell rang and headed to my next class where Scott was, thankfully, my classmate.

                It turns out Scott has not many friends around the campus as well. I confirmed this during lunch time where I watched him carefully ski through the sea of people, wary he might bump into someone he doesn’t know, and how he took a seat beside me at lunch table looking as awkward and nervous as I was. It looks to me Scott and I was on the same page here except that he’s not the center of unwanted attention and he’s not the new kid.

                Lunch was okay. No flying mashed potato hitting my head, and or no lunch trays being flipped by someone. Lunch was great. I found a friend in Scott and Scott found a friend in me. Its fine just being the two of us sitting coldly at the lunch table, enjoying our sorry excuse for cafeteria food.

                On my previous school, I experienced eating in comfort rooms just because I can’t find anywhere to sit with. I didn’t have a lot of friends then, I didn’t have anyone to trust, to share my stories. All I needed was a friend and finally, I hope to God and all the saints—that I found that friend in Scott.

                “So, why did you transfer in the first place?” Scott hesitantly asked.

                It took me a while before I said “I didn’t like the people there,” I couldn’t bring myself to say that I was lonely and people didn’t like me there, that there was no place for me there at all. Scott seemed to feel the slight tension in my shoulders so he didn’t push on the topic. It would take time for me to tell him stories on how I got picked on by teens older than me.

               

It’s not like I’m that _bad_. I look pale and I’m skinny but I don’t really see why other people would do such things to me. Before I even went to high school I thought I was growing pretty awesome. Society had bended my beliefs though. People at my previous school made me believe that I was way too skinny for my age, way too pale, and maybe way too geeky for them. I didn’t get why they have to act on it. I tried convincing myself once that maybe they’re just insecure, but hey, who am I kidding. I accepted the fact that I’m what society had labeled me and I got used to people treating me differently.

                And did I mention that I was gay?

                Yeah, I was gay.

***

A week had passed and Scott and I were already best friends. I often come to his house to play video games and pig out on Chinese and pizza. Sometimes he comes to my place to study, and then play some more video games, indulge ourselves with ice cream and junk foods. My dad got a hang of Scott. At first he was skeptical that I have such a friend but as time goes by Scott was a regular visitor at our house.

                It was Wednesday when he asked me to join lacrosse.

                I laughed and asked if he was joking.

                He wasn’t.

                Sports was clearly not my forte and I don’t know what Scott was thinking when he asked me to try out for the sport. I am trying my best to lay low in my new environment and I don’t think I would attain that if I try out for lacrosse.

                “Oh c’mon, dude,” Scott pushed. “It’ll be fun.”

                “Your idea of fun isn’t quite fitting for me you know.”

                Scott furrowed his brows and gave me his best puppy look. “Please.”

                “Do it for me.”

                There was something in Scott’s pleading eyes that made me say yes to him. I am going to regret this. I can feel it.

                “Great, man!” Scott cheered. “Try out is on Friday.”

                He patted my shoulder and went straight to class. We have to separate this time. Scott has pre calc and I have history.

                This was my second week in school and so far so good. The shoving the locker thing that occurred during my first day seem to subtle down. People here didn’t really care what you are. It’s a good thing for me. Favorable indeed.

                 I sat at my usual seat, near the window, and patiently waited for the teacher. There’s something about windows and me that’s connecting that’s why I usually sit near to one. In my previous school I always took the seat in front. It’s a strategy in a way. The teacher would clearly see if someone is bugging you and the attention paid to you is high. It’s only there that I attain peace, but when the bell rings its back to normal.

                “I haven’t introduced myself to you yet. I’m Lydia Martin.” Five minutes until the bell, _the_ Lydia Martin was standing beside me. Her right hand twirling her perfect strawberry blonde hair, I saw clearly how her lips are pursed together with her intimidating posture.

                Who doesn’t know Lydia Martin? In my week of stay here in Beacon Hills I already heard of her name. She’s still a sophomore as I was and she was as popular as Regina George and I was the new kid Cathy. Even seniors knew of her.

                I shifted in my seat awkwardly and said “My name’s Stiles,” I offered a handshake but was ignored when the teacher came in. I can see her gazing at me, eyeing me from head to toe like she’s judging what I’m wearing.

                “I know,” she whispered and went back to her seat which was next to my row. Just behind me.

                And then there was Danny who was seated next to me. Danny who has a cheekbones of a God. I haven’t met anyone yet who has cheekbones like his.

                “I heard you were trying out for the lacrosse team,” he peered “I heard you and Scott talking about it earlier.”

                “Yeah, well he wanted someone to accompany him and he thought I’d be a great one.” I sighed mentally and Danny just smiled at me.

                Mrs. Campbell, our history teacher shushed us before I even say anything. She was staring at me disappointingly and went on with her lesson.

                “Thank you.” I whispered.

***

It was Friday and I was agitated. Scott had asked me try out for the lacrosse team and I was nervous. The dismissal bell rang and I saw my classmate stood up, arranging their things in chorus. When Scott and I head out of the room I could see the sea of people rushing through the corridor.

                I feel nauseous.

                I took a deep breath and Scott escorted me to the field. He told me to change so I went to the nearest comfort room, locked myself into one of the cubicles and change. I didn’t pay attention to the raised brow Scott had given me. As much as possible I don’t want anyone to see me change. Or naked. I’m still healing and I don’t think people would be fond of body scars.

                So, I changed into a long sleeved tee shirt, long enough to cover my pale wrists, shorts, long enough to cover my thighs. I did not want to risk anything. I’m not ready for people to find out what happened. Especially to Scott.

                When I came out of the comfort room I was greeted by Scott’s wide smile.

                “Ready?” He asked.

                “Yeah, I guess so.”  I nodded and he led the way toward the field.

Two excruciating hours after and I am beat. I lay on the grass field, my arms and legs sprawled through the dirt. Scott lay down beside me looking as exhausted as I was. He turn to look at me and said “You did good, man”

                I caught his eye peak to my wrists and I instantly jerked my hand and wrapped in on my tummy.

                “Yeah, you did fair as well.”

                Coach Finstock asked us to hit the showers and wait for the results on Monday. I wasn’t rooting for it but the sport seems fun. I enjoyed running and being bumped by students larger than me.

                I sat and then the thought of showers hit me. I will have to take a shower . . . naked.

                I can’t be seen by people. Not like this.

                I turned to Scott and immediately found an excuse. “Dude, I’ll be going ahead,” adjusting the sleeves of my shirt “I remembered, my Dad called me earlier and told me to come home early.”

                “You won’t be hitting the showers?” Scott quirked a brow. I saw him look at my wrists again before he turned to look at me.

                “Not today,” I said. I looked over at coach Finstock where he was talking to the captain of the team.

                 I leaned on where I was sitting to take a good look at the captain. He seemed familiar. I think I was staring too much because I saw him glance at me and smiled.  Now I remember him. He’s the one who helped me pick up my books on my first day.

                So he’s captain, huh.

                Scott was getting his things from the benches as I stood carefully.

                God my leg feels like jelly.

                I looked over at coach Finstock and I saw him walking toward the showers. The Captain, however was walking toward us. I patted my shorts clearing it from any dirt. I stood up and the Captain was only several feet away.

                I smiled awkwardly and he said “I didn’t know you play.”

                “Yeah, neither did I.” I never really thought I would get the basics and play almost like a pro on the field.

                “You did good out there,” he said.

                “Uhh, thanks.” I scratched the back of my head and then I remembered my wrists so I had to put my hands down as quickly as possible. “Also, thanks for helping me the other week . . . with my things.”

                He smiled at me more and said “It’s cool.”

               “See you around. . .” he paused looking at me.

               “Stiles.” I said.

                Before I could even get his name he jogged away toward the showers.

                Scott was carrying his sports bag when he stood beside me. He was grinning widely and looked at me before he said “Dude, I didn’t know you were friends with Derek” so Derek was his name huh.

               “We’re not! I just happen to meet him on my first day. I didn’t know he was the captain of the team.”

                I grabbed my bag and started walking toward the parking lot.

                “Uhh, Dude, see you Monday.” I called from the field and then I continued walking. I ignored the sympathetic look Scott gave me when I turned to look back.

***

Driving while exhausted was really not fun at all. I can feel my eyes drooping as I swerve through the driveway. Good thing I made it at home. I immediately ran upstairs in my room and went straight to the bathroom.

                I turned on the shower and let it drip for a few seconds before hopping in. This feels nice after the try out. For seconds I just stood there, eyes closed as warm water covered my body. I opened my eyes and slowly, just slowly, traced the scars on my wrists. Every scar has its story. I can see it every time I close my eyes. Every inch has its meaning. I didn’t notice the speeding of my heart and before I knew it memories are pouring into my mind. I tried to brush every thought but they stayed there haunting me.

                After trailing the scars on my wrists I traced the one on my chest. The one that’s almost healed but still hurts like fresh. The one my dad noticed back then. I still remember those worried eyes staring at me while he took me to the hospital. And then I touched my lips. Chapped once, burnt from the touch of _him._ I can still feel his lips on mine. I laughed weakly knowing all of it was a lie.

                I fought the tears forming in my eyes. The memories sting like they were from yesterday. I found it hard to breathe.

                Not this time.

                Not today.

_Please._

                I can’t afford to have another panic attack. I don’t want my dad to find out. I’ve been better since we moved to Beacon Hills and I promised I would stay better. For my dad.

                I continued to shower and decided to make dinner. Dad would be home in a couple of minutes and I sure want to serve him with some healthy homemade cooking. After I shower I dried off, grabbed some clothes I think was clean and headed downstairs.

***

If someone told me they liked Monday’s I would literally scream at their face. Monday was never the greatest part of the week. Weekends are not enough because of Monday. And because I look like crap. Big black circles around my eyes and pale chapped lips. I haven’t slept through the weekends. I closed myself from the world in my room. I didn’t go out for two days even if Scott was begging me to come over.

                Since Friday, I didn’t get enough sleep. My sleeping hours was broken and I kept on waking up at ungodly’ hours.

                It’s like depression all over again.

                Battling depression was no easy task. It’s an invisible monster who kept on whispering in your ear that you’re no better, that you’re all the negative things in this world. According to my doctor, my previous school was the one that triggered my depression. The people around me. It’s another reason why me and my dad moved here in Beacon Hills.

                I checked the time and I still got five more minutes before the bell rang. I hurriedly went to my locker and I noticed someone standing awkwardly a few feet from me. I remembered that cream paper she was holding. And that look on her face.

                I approached her after I got all my books.

                “Hey.”

                She looked at me with those brown eyes, her long curly hair hovering her like silk. She smiled at me before she said “New girl here.” Waving the cream paper she’s holding he looked to her left and right.

                “I’m Stiles by the way,” I shook her hand which was so smooth. She didn’t seem to be bugged by my dread appearance. “Let me see your schedule,” she handed me her schedule and luckily we almost have the same classes.

                I showed her most of her classrooms and the classes we share together. She smiled at and thanked me for helping.

                “Well, we better get going before classes starts.”

                “Chemistry right?”

                We headed to our room and Mr. Harris was already standing in front of the class. I entered in front with Allison. She showed Mr. Harris her schedule and I went to my seat. Scott was clearly pining at her.

                “Well Ms. Argent,” Harris started “You can take the seat behind Mr. McCall,” the only free seat in the room. As Allison was walking she smiled at me and waved.

***

After my chemistry class I waved my goodbye to Scott who’s still mooning over Allison. They were talking so I didn’t bother to say much. I grabbed my bag and went to my next class.

                I have calc with seniors.

                And apparently, Derek was my classmate.

                To be honest, I was a bit shocked to see the captain of the lacrosse team in the same class as mine. It’s weird enough for me to be the only sophomore in an all senior class.

                I used to get picked on because of my advance classes. People think I’m too geeky. But here it’s different. People didn’t look to me the same way other people did. In fact, they seem to appreciate my entire existence. I even made friends with one of the seniors. Erica Reyes.

                I went over my seat, this time it was in the back still near the window. I saw Derek sit in front center row. He looked over and smiled at me. I shifted my gaze towards the window hoping Derek didn’t notice me staring at him.

                It was no luck.

                From the corner of my eye I saw him stood and started walking toward me. My heart races a bit because, damn, this guy is a sculpture chiseled to perfection.

                “Hi.” he greeted. He took the seat in front of me and turned the chair around so we were facing each other.

                “Hey,” I smiled and nodded at him “I didn’t know you were my classmate.”

                “I didn’t know _you_ were my classmate,” He said.

                “Yeah . . . I bet you didn’t.” I laughed softly.

                Being this close to him a familiar feeling crept through my veins. It’s the same feeling I felt with _him._ My heart started raising, not knowing what to do. Derek just kept on grinning at me like I’ve done something good. I can’t look at him straight in his silver eyes. I kept glancing over the window.

                I was nervous. The memories I’ve tried to bury are slowly creeping its way out.

                Lucky for me the bell rang and Derek shifted in his seat, arranged the chair and smiled at me before he went back to his proper seat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is about Stiles and his friends, insecurities and stuffs. hints of derek and stiles.
> 
> they won't be interacting much until Chapter 3 (which I'm still writing)
> 
> I hope you guys are enjoying this

The bell rang and everybody started to pack their things. Art class wasn’t that bad even though I pretty much suck at everything. I went outside to hear a wailing Scott, calling my name.

                “STILES!” amongst the noise from the cluttered students in the hall, Scott’s voice was towering.

                I waved my hands up and Scott smiled widely when he saw my hand. I watch him as he carefully bumped his way toward me.

                “We made it! We made it!” He shouts.

                “We made what?” I raised a brow grinning at his infectious smile.

                “We’re in the lacrosse team!” Scott announced.

                “Really?” Scott nodded. I wasn’t really ecstatic about the news but hey, if it made Scott happy then why shouldn’t I.

Lunch was different. Scott was grinning widely at me when he took a seat in front of me. He put his tray down and started making circles on the table. I raised my brow in question but I totally knew where this was headed.

                Before I even interrogate Scott on what’s making him more happy and jittery Allison sat beside him with her own tray of cafeteria food. Allison was also grinning when she took a seat. She smiled at me and greeted me before I took a bite on my chicken strips.

                And then I saw Lydia with her boyfriend Jackson coming over to our table.

                And then they we’re sitting at our table.

                And then all of a sudden everybody started chatting like it’s a normal thing.

                “Congratulations into making it to the team, Stiles.” Allison said.

                “Yeah, thanks.”

                “So you made it huh?” Jackson, Lydia’s boyfriend said. I nodded at him and he seemed to not mind me.

                “Jackson here is in the lacrosse team. Co-captain.” Lydia proudly announced.

                After the whole lacrosse thing conversation everybody turned to their partners and continued chatting. I somehow felt alone knowing that Scott had Allison now to talk to. They seem to really get along. _I won’t get depressed over this. I have a better disposition in life now._ I thought to myself.

                Albeit I felt a little bit left out, I was happy. I was happy because my circle of friends was growing wider. And I no longer have trust issues because practically everybody here in Beacon Hills was accepting and warm. My dad seemed to agree.

                I was playing with my grapes with my fork, bored when I felt someone staring at me. I can feel someone’s eyes scanning me from head to toe. I looked around and saw Lydia with her pursed lips and raised brow.

                “What,” I said flat.

                “Will you take off that jacket of yours, Stilinski.” Her tone was not a suggestion but a command.

                I looked at my jacket and found nothing wrong with it.

                “What,” I said again deadpan.

                “Lydia here is allergic to outdated fashion,” Jackson said. “You better take it off or she’ll burn you with it.”

                I searched Jackson’s eyes for some hint of joke but there was none. Lydia was . . . serious.

                Lydia stood from her seat “Jackson,” she said and all of a sudden Jackson was grabbing for my shoulders trying to yank my jacket away from me.

                “No! Stop!” I yelled. People from the next table glanced at us but went back on their chatting. “Please, don’t!” I plead but there was Lydia unzipping my hoodie. I stood up and Jackson finally hauled my jacket away.

                I suddenly felt naked.

                I stood there for a moment. I can hear Jackson’s laugh from behind. I could also feel them gaze at my naked arm.

                I felt exposed.

                I quickly grabbed my jacket from Jackson’s grip and stormed out of the cafeteria. Before they could say anything the bell rang.

                I know they saw it. How can they not? Every single scar in my left wrist. I was trying my best to conceal them until they heal but I was caught. I hugged my jacket tightly as I head toward the field. I didn’t care if I miss two or three of my classes. I just need some time alone. And some space.

                As I walk, I remember the students from my old school chanting _freak_ when they found out I was cutting. I curse under my breath looking at the ground.

                “Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.” I whispered to the air. It wasn’t helping.

                Now they’re going to think I’m a freak. And then I’ll lose them and the same cycle I’ve been running away from for years would begin again.

                Then I would be alone.

                I can feel my neck flushed up with blood. I can sense my ears redden. I tried my best not to let my tears flow as I walk through the fields. I can spot the benches. There’s no one in there.

                As I sat on the cold benches near the end I felt my cheeks wet as tears flowed freely from my eyes like they’re meant to. I clenched my jacked tighter around my body and cradled myself until no tears were left. My anxiety was taking over, Depression reintroducing its dark self to me.

                I can’t handle this.

                _Why now?_ I thought to the skies.

                I don’t think I can handle any more pain. Any more bullying. Any more judging looks.

                I rested my head in my hands. I was thinking when someone coughed from the background. I looked around wiping my tears off of my face. I saw Derek sitting two rows on top of me. Hiding from the benches. Hiding from the world.

                “Why are you here?” I asked. Voice a bit cracked from crying.

                “Why are _you_ here?” He said back. “You’re cutting classes.”

                “ _You’re_ cutting classes.” I shoot back. I saw him grinned and made his way toward me.

                Beside me.

                “Free period.”

                “So,” he started quietly. “Want to talk about it?”

                “Why is it every time I’m troubled you’re there?” I said looking at him. My eyes are still teary and I hope I didn’t look embarrassing.

                “I am stalking you.” He said. There was a brief silence between the two of us before he started laughing. I stared at him for a few seconds before I chuckled.

                I fell silent for a moment before I said. “Thanks. I feel better now.”

“Thanks for working your magic on me . . . Derek.”

                “How’d you know my name?” He said.

                “The fact that we’re classmates at calculus, you’re now my captain,” I said “And . . . I’m stalking you.”

                He smiled at me. A genuine smile. “Congrats on making it on the team by the way.”

                “You knew!” I turned to him. “You totally knew I passed that’s why you’re grinning like mad earlier!” I may or may not slightly jab him softly at his shoulders.

                “Welcome to the team.” He reached for a handshake and I took it. I remembered I wasn’t wearing my jacket and I know Derek totally saw my scars. I yanked my hand away and wrapped it around my tummy.

                “Thanks. I’ll be just like a benchwarmer or something but . . . thanks.”

                “You play well. Who knows, after I graduate you’ll be the captain.” He said.

                I scoffed. “You wish.”

                “So,” he started hesitantly. “You want to talk about it?” I know he was referring to my scars.

                “You’re not disgusted?” I asked after a while. I don’t know why but there’s something about Derek that makes me relax. I looked at him and I wondered if it’s because of his expressive brows.

                “Why would I?” He said. There was it again. The quick pacing of my heart, like it was racing to reach for something. I felt it again. Something I haven’t felt in a long time.

                “You know . . . because it’s not normal?” I said. “Because I’m a . . . freak?”

                “You’re not a freak, Stiles.” He held my left shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. “If my sister is struggling like the way you do I still won’t judge.”

                “Thanks.” At least someone’s not judging. It’s not like I cut myself for fun. It’s addicting, true, but there was a story behind it. It’s a product of depression and an escape. I wanted to relieve myself with the emotional pain especially when Matt happened. I can’t think of anything that would calm my heart and mind down so I tried to cut my wrists.

                I don’t expect people to understand. At first my dad didn’t either. They’re not the one who suffered every day; they’re not the one who was made a joke of. People don’t know anything and it would be better for me if it stays that way.

                I fell for the silence Derek and I was sharing. It was nice being like this. Having someone so close in the silence, escaping those knowing eyes.  After a while I felt him stood in his seat. “Well. I better go. Still have to study for a test.”

                I looked up at him and smirked. “Okay, thanks for . . . this” I flail my hands. Really it was kind of embarrassing. I can’t find words to thank him for his company. It helped a lot.

                “No problem,” he said walking down the benches one big strand at a time. “And . . .” he turned to look at me with those piercing silver eyes. “I won’t tell anyone about . . . this.” He flails, mimicking mine.

                I smiled and whispered “Thanks” but I know he didn’t hear it because he was jogging toward the building.

                That day I missed my first lacrosse practice.

­­­***

“Dude where were you yesterday?” I saw Scott jogged toward me Tuesday morning. I was walking through the hall clutching tightly the strap of my backpack. “You didn’t attend the classes and you weren’t in the practice.”

                “Derek said you weren’t feeling well so you had to skip practice.” Really? Derek covered for me?

                I kept walking to our classroom when he blocked me from the front. I wasn’t looking at his puppy eyes. “Stiles, can we talk?” He said and by the tone of his voice he sounds concerned and worried.

                “Not now, Scott” I tried shoving him away but he’s stronger than me. I looked straight to his brown eyes not really knowing what to say. “We can talk later.”

                “Promise?” Scott looked at me with those expecting eyes and I nodded. He grinned at me and wrapped his arms around my shoulder. I grinned slightly knowing he’s still my friend.

                Like Scott, I can feel Allison’s gaze at me. Of course I wasn’t looking at her but I can feel she’s concerned. I took my seat and waited for Mr. Harris to come.

***

Lunch was nerve wracking. I was carrying my lunch tray and eyeing for our lunch table. I already saw Scott waving at me with Allison beside him. I nodded at him and walked toward them. Maybe I was looking at the ground while I walk because I suddenly bumped someone.

                I looked up to apologize and to be honest I wasn’t really shocked to find Derek standing in front of me. Good thing the food didn’t spill.

                “Sorry.” I mouthed.

                “Are you still stalking me?” This is becoming a thing.

 Now that I can see him up close I noticed how his eyes had hints of green and brown and not pure gray. I noticed how thin his lips are, quirking like that into a smile. I finally had a chance to eye those chiseled cheeks of his. I stopped myself before I do anything stupid.

                “Yes. I am,” I said sarcastically. He smiled at me and I noticed how really white those teeth are.

                “Well, uhh . . . do you want to sit with us?” Derek offered. I looked over at their table and I saw Erica and her boyfriend Boyd. Boyd nodded at me but Erica, Erica was grinning like mad.

                “Thanks, but, uhh . . .” I looked over at Scott and Derek followed my gaze.

                “McCall,” Derek said returning his eyes to mine. There was it again. I felt it. That soft thump in my heart. I tried to brush it off but my heart started pacing.

                “See you later.” I said waving a hand.

                Derek nodded at me and went off to their table. I saw Erica whisper something at him I didn’t hear and I saw Derek look nervous.

                As I sit I can feel the slight tension building up in the air. I know Allison and Scott had a lot of questions in mind and I wasn’t ready to answer any of it at the moment. I ignored the feeling and rested my tray on the table. Just as I sat I saw Jackson and Lydia come over.

                “Stiles . . . I,” Lydia started but I cut her off raising my left hand. She looked at me, concerned in the eyes.  I saw Jackson avoiding eye contact.

                “It’s okay if you guys stop being my friend. I’ve had the same experience before we moved here,” I said. I was looking straight into Lydia’s eyes. “It’s okay if you think I’m a freak.”

                “Freak?” Lydia said. Eyebrows rose. “Stiles, I . . . you could’ve just told us you have problems.”

                “It’s like we’re not friends at all.” I’ve only known Lydia for a couple of weeks now. Although we become somewhat close I still am keeping my guard up. I just can’t trust people anymore. Or I forgot how to trust.

                I sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of my nose. _I can’t ignore this._ Not when everyone was expecting an explanation.

                “Stiles, you don’t have to tell us what happened okay?” Allison said reaching for my hand squeezing it. “We just want you to know that we understand you.” No you don’t understand.

                I felt tears forming in my eyes. I can’t help it this time. I was all about to break down when Lydia hugged me. “We’re here for you, Stiles.” I can hear her sincere whisper at my ear.

                I didn’t know what to do. Of course I didn’t. This was the first time someone had actually accepted me for my flaws, someone who understood even though I didn’t say a word.

                “And you’re not a freak, okay.” Scott said.

                Lydia released my from her comfortable clutches and smiled at me. I looked in everyone’s eyes. Everyone’s souls. “Thanks you guys.” I said as I wipe the tears off of my face.

                Lydia sat beside me then, Jackson beside her. She patted me in the shoulders and we smiled at each other. I had come to realize that maybe I wasn’t broken after all. Maybe I was just bent. A bent that caused me pain but I know eventually will be healed. Albeit there’s still a part of me that’s closed and fragile I am trying my best to slowly open up.

                A part of society once labeled me and I believed them. Like it was my whole identity. I believed them until I fell apart. Here in Beacon Hills, they didn’t have people like that. In here, you create your own self and no one will judge you. Everyone will accept you. Sure there will be others who wouldn’t understand. But would you let yourself be affected of that?

                I have friends now. Real ones. One’s who don’t judge. People who accepted me. I saw from the corner of my eye that Derek was staring at our table. Staring at me. I looked at him and he smiled a knowing smile.

                I have friends now. And maybe even more.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to leave kudos and comments or any inputs.
> 
> thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> please feel free to comment and if you have any inputs.
> 
> also feel free to leave kudos.
> 
> i don't have a lot of confidence in my work.


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